


Sketch Over My Heart

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Come Eating, Frotting, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Job, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared jumps at the chance to take an open eight-week art course at the local art school being taught by his idol, creator and renowned illustrator of the popular cult comic series <i>Apocalypse Live</i>, Jensen Ackles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sketch Over My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to expectative for the amazing art which gave me the idea for this story. Thank you to the spn_reversebang mods for being awesome and having this challenge. Thank you to selecasharp for the awesome bets and cheerleading that was much needed.
> 
> Link to art. [Mr. Ackles](http://expectative.livejournal.com/59671.html)

It’s a typical Monday morning for Jared; he’s drinking a cup of shitty microwave-reheated coffee as he tiredly slops across his tiny studio apartment, dressed only in his boxer shorts and tube socks, to go to his office — the desk in the corner with his computer — to start his day.

He boots up and opens his graphic design t-shirt shop, before fast-tracking over to his favorite comic fansite. Work can wait; Jared can’t start his day without scanning the blogs, art, and recent news. He’s kind of a fixture, always logged in unless he’s sleeping or — well, he’s always logged in. Okay, so maybe he’s a little obsessed, but he’s been a huge fan of _Apocalypse Live_ since he was fifteen years old. He’s made lots of friends on the blogs, and even sold his first piece of fanart based on the comic’s protagonist, Camdon the Warrior, through the site.

The moment he opens the blog, a new message from his friend, thechadinator, pops up. It reads: _Dude, run over to JA’s official, there is an announcement up that you are gonna wanna read. --TheChad._

Jared can hardly breathe; he’s positive that it is an early announcement of an actual appearance. 

Jensen Ackles, the creator and renowned primary illustrator of _Apocalypse Live_ , is Jared’s hero. His artwork is a big part of why Jared became an artist himself; he follows Jensen on his official website and keeps up on everything and anything he’s doing. To call Jared a fan is an understatement. He’s memorized all of the Ackles-isms, all of his advice to young artists, and Jared hopes and prays that one day he’ll come out of hiding to do San Diego Comic Con. _Apocalypse Live_ is one of the biggest cult comics at the event, and Jensen is the only illustrator to never attend, and he’s the freaking creator. Jared’s never even seen a proper picture of the guy — the best one has him in sunglasses, his face turned away from the camera.

But this could be it. This could be what Jared’s been waiting years for. He only hopes that he has enough money to attend.

He rushes over and logs into Jensen’s official site. He’s so nervous he can barely type in his username, Camdon_fanboy, for how shaky he is. 

It doesn’t take long for him to see the announcement. It’s splashed in huge red letters across the top of the page:

_**Jensen Ackles is offering a series of guest lectures at an art school in Austin, Texas during the fall semester.**  
Jensen will share his years of experience with an open enrollment class at the Austin Art Institute for 8 weeks; you can learn from Jensen’s experience and gain insight into the creative processes of comic art and storytelling._

Jared just keeps staring at the computer screen, his mouth agape and his heart in his stomach. This is far, far more than he’d ever even let himself dream of. Jensen Ackles isn’t just making an appearance; he’s coming to Austin, to Jared’s hometown, and he’s staying for _eight whole weeks_. Jared can barely believe it. He’s wanted to meet him for such a long time, and now he has an opportunity to actually _take a class_ with him. Learn so many things, pick his brain, and meet him, actually-really-bona-fide _meet him_.

Suddenly his own brain kicks back in and he realizes that _this class_ costs money. He tabs over to the website for the Austin Art Institute to find the class roster and see what it will cost to sign up for it. He finds the link, opens it up and reads over the information; his heart skips a beat with joy when he sees that the class fee is only five hundred dollars, not the thousands he’d been fearing. 

But then again, five hundred dollars… He quickly checks his bank account and frowns. His remaining checking balance is three hundred forty-six dollars and his savings is less than one hundred dollars. He’s short by about sixty dollars. 

He taps the edge of his coffee cup, his brain is working on ideas to raise the money before the class fills up. Images for quick-selling shirt designs are racing through his mind. He picks up his art pad and pen and starts to sketch. Before he knows it, he has four sketches to put up for sale.

“Starving artist for real,” he murmurs, and grabs the scanner.

Grinning, he lists his art on his own site while working on scenarios for how he’ll live on ramen noodles, canned beans and weenies, and PB&J sandwiches for the next few months, just to be able to learn from his idol.

 

The morning Jared finally signs up for the class, he puts up a post on the _Apocalypse Live_ website, proclaiming his joy. 

_**Camdon_fanboy** : Better than Comic Con tickets! Just paid for and registered for JA’s Austin art class. Jealous much BITCHES!?_

He gets several replies to his post.

_**thechadinator** : Dude, high five. 0/_

_**Camdons_gun** : OMG YOU ARE SO LUCKY. I’m so jealous!!!!_

_**end.of.life.aswe.knowit** : totally cool! tell us EVERYTHING!_

_**Apocalypse1** : Awesome news, Camdonfb. I wish I could take that course with you, but work. It’s the curse of the drinking class, dude. Congrats!_

 

Jared is all nerves and jitters as he makes his way across campus to the art building. He’s been sketching in his book all week, making drawings of his original pieces to show Jensen — if he gets the chance, that is. Characters that he’d love to see in the comics to fulfill his dream of illustrating for it, adding his own touches to working for and with Jensen.

He makes his way down the stairs of the large theater; the seats are perched in stadium seating, and he’s not sure if he wants down front or hidden obscurely in the middle. He finally opts for third row center, in front of Jensen’s desk but not so close that he can be thought of as a suck-up or a teacher’s pet wannabe.

People sift in, sitting in the seats in the front and second rows and squeezing in beside him as the rest of the room fills up. It’s noisy and tight, most of the seats taken except for the back row.

The loud murmur of people talking sounds like bees buzzing in Jared’s ears. His eyes are transfixed on the front stage, his heart beating at an uneven pace as he tries to keep himself calm and focused. _He’s just a man, just a normal person, and not a super hero._ Jared sighs, his fingers twirling while he intermittently drums his pen between his thumb and forefingers. He checks the clock and his chest goes tight with excitement. Class is about to start, and Jared is anticipating his teacher’s entrance. 

But the door behind the desk on the stage doesn’t open, and so he starts to scribble in his art book: silly drawings, sketches of anatomy dolls from his prior art classes, anything to keep his mind busy, anything to keep him from obsessing on the fact that Jensen Ackles is about to enter his life. 

When the door opens, no one but Jared even notices, they’re all too busy excitedly chattering. 

But Jared’s intently watching, his heart pounding in his ears, as a man steps behind the desk and puts down a large portfolio case. He’d expected a worldly-looking professor type or even a wild-haired artist, that crazy genius persona, with ink stains all down his smock. He’s quite surprised to see a youthful man, neatly dressed in a tan sweater-vest and white button-down shirt, and his jeans that fit snugly. When he turns around to write his name on the board, Jared gets a full view of just how they hug his firm ass. The sight makes Jared swallow a bit hard. 

But even how surprisingly hot Jensen Ackles is can’t distract him for long. He sits up straight as Jensen puts down the chalk and turns around, facing the class for the first time. 

This is it, Jared thinks, his grip on his pen tightening until his fingers go numb. 

 

When the door opens, the drone of voices engulfs Jensen. His heart sinks as he glances at the overfilled auditorium. There are far too many of them, he thinks in disbelief, picturing the roster he was given. He can’t imagine it was _this_ off.

Focus, he tells himself. He puts his portfolio down on the desk, takes a deep breath, then turns without looking at the crowd and writes his name across the black chalkboard. The white letters he’s penning spell out ‘Mr. Ackles.’ He takes another deep breath before laying down the chalk, brushing his hands together, and turning back around as he exhales what should be a calming breath.

“I’m Mr. Ackles.” He tries to get the attention of the room, but the noise drowns out his voice. He clears his throat and speaks louder. “I am Mr. Ackles.” It quiets, but only slightly, and he picks up his portfolio case and slams it on the desk. 

All of the voices silence completely as heads turn towards the sound. Jensen steels himself and walks out from behind the desk to address the class. “I am Mr. Ackles, and this is Comics and the Graphic Novel.” He scans the people crammed into the room as the crowd claps and cheers. “Now, my class roster says that there are only forty-two registered students in this class,” he chuckles, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice. “I can only assume that the rest of you are all _Apocalypse Live_ fans?” 

The crowd cheers and whoops again. Jensen lifts his hands in the universal gesture for ‘calm down,’ and a hush falls once again.

“Assuming there are any spots left, I would be happy to accommodate you if you want to trot down to admissions and sign up—” a murmur sweeps through the crowd, “—but if you are not a registered student of this class, you’ll have to leave.” 

The crowd boos, and about half of them grumble and begin making their way toward the exits. “But you never make public appearances,” one of the crowd yells over the loud disgruntled noises. Several other people join in, yelling out, “Why?”

“Well, I… I’m not a fan of crowds.” Jensen rolls his eyes, exasperated at them for asking and at himself for even trying to answer. He’s not lying, it’s true, but he is also very private, and fans tend to be intrusive. He likes meeting them one-on-one, even in small groups, but in huge crowds like this… “I’m an artist, we’re allowed our eccentricities. Now, if your name isn’t on this list, please leave the auditorium.” And with that he turns and walks behind the desk again, pressing his palms flat on the green felt pad as he watches the fans weed out, leaving only what he hopes are the students. 

“I think it’s safe now,” one of the girls in the front-stage whispers, and the rest of the class laughs softly. 

“Now,” Jensen sighs contentedly. “My serious art students, please, if you’ll all move on down and take the seats in the front of the room, and we’ll make sure you’re all actually on my roster, all right?” He waves them all forward and sits on the front of the desk with his roster sheet as he watches them file into the closer seats. A random thought enters his head as he’s scanning his student names: which student, he wonders, is Camdon_fanboy, that smart, talented artist that he chats with online. He scans the room, his eyes examining each student, male and female alike, as he starts roll call, calling out each name in alphabetical order.

“…Jared Padalecki…” 

“Here,” a voice says lowly, as if not to draw too much attention to it. Jensen looks up and matches the face with the voice, his heart beating a little faster as he takes in the strong jaw and the sweep of hair half-hiding Jared’s face. 

_Could he be…?_

Jared straightens up when he realizes Jensen’s eyes are on him, shaking back his hair and briefly meeting Jensen’s eyes and smiling before looking back down at his open sketchbook. Jensen salutes with his pencil and makes a note to keep an eye on that one, before calling the rest of the names.

He spends the rest of the class introducing various drawing styles and talking about what the class members likes visually. He’s not surprised when they overwhelmingly name him as their favorite illustrator. He’d known this would be an issue. He’ll just have to work around it, as planned.

“Okay, an assignment. Tonight, go home and draw a representation of yourself. How you perceive yourself outside of your own head. Draw your alter egos — we all have them, artists often insert them into their works. I want to see who you all think you are.” He points at them in a sweeping motion. “Now go forth and create.”

 

When Jensen gets back to the tiny apartment the school is renting for him, he pours himself a nice glass of good southern bourbon and sprawls out across the neatly-made bed. _It’s been a long day,_ he thinks. The amber swirls in his glass and he studies the way it moves around in the tumbler. 

A soft ding comes from his laptop. He sleepily stretches out and pulls it to his lap. He opens his email and finds that there is an alert from the fan blog, notifying him that Camdon_fanboy has made a new post. Jensen smiles, very interested in what his favorite fan and now student has to say.

**_Camdon_fanboy_** : Just had the most amazing day in my first day of class! Mr. Ackles is the best and our first homework is to draw ourselves as our alter egos. What a concept.

_**end.of.life.aswe.knowit** : omggggggg wish I was taking it too! so cool!_

**_Camdon_fanboy_** : Haha you totally do! JA rules.

**_thechadinator:_** : dude, youre infatuated. youre thinking with your dick, you want ja hahahaha anything ja does will give you a boner. :D

**_Camdon_fanboy:_** You’re just jealous I just spent two hours with JA and he was amazing. Yeah, I have a fan boner for him, but dude, he’s my teacher.

**__thechadinator:** go take a cold shower or whack off that stiffy. hahahahahahahahaha!! 

**_Camdon_fanboy:_** You’d love to see that, you perv. Hehe. Srsly, it was awesome.

Jensen decides to join in. He’s a little bit nervous and hopes it doesn’t show through his fan persona.

**_Apocalypse1:_** Glad JA was awesome, I know you’ve been waiting a long time to meet him. Did you get to actually talk to him? 

Okay, so he’s shamelessly fishing for which student he might be, but he’s genuinely interested too. 

**_Camdon_fanboy:_** No, just got to be in the same room with him. He was really wonderful though and I think I will learn a lot from him. It’s just so awesome being able to pick his brain and get to know him, on some level.

**_thechadinator:_** he wants his dick a1. hahahahha.

_**end.of.life.aswe.knowit** : wow one-track mind chadinator, lol. you sure you’re not the one who wants JA’s dick? :P_

**_thechadinator:_** nope all camdonfb hahaha

**_Camdon_fanboy:_** Shut up, or I’ll block you from this conversation douchinator.

Jensen’s really interested in who Camdon_fanboy is now. He wonders if he has discussed the idea of his dick with thechadinator before, which would explain why the other fan keeps bringing it up. But even if he has, Jensen knows that his dick is definitely not the only thing Camdon_fanboy is interested in. He’s been chatting with him and admiring his raw talent too long not to know that.

**_Apocalypse1:_** Chadinator, I am sure Camdonfb just wants JA’s knowledge. Don’t worry, Camdonfb, you will take something away from his class, you’re a wonderful artist and I for one am humbled by your talent. 

But, he thinks after hitting send, he might not be opposed if Camdon_fanboy were interested in that too. Once they’d gotten to know each other.

**_Camdon_fanboy:_** Thanks A1, you are awesome too. 

**_thechadinator:_** hahahahahaha nah, he wants the D. 8===D 

Thechadinator has been blocked from this conversation.

**_Camdon_fanboy:_** Warned you dude. Lol. Sorry A1. I’d better get drawing anyway, can’t wait to do my homework for once haha

**_Apocalypse1:_** NP. Have fun with your homework. 

Camdon_fanboy’s name goes gray, indicating that he’s gone idle, and Jensen sits back on the couch, idling swirling his bourbon again, disappointed. He’s still none the wiser to his fanboy student. 

 

Jared couldn’t wait to post his first day experience on the site. He’d hurried home and made the post before he’d even taken his shoes off, then chatted for a little while with his friends before he’d settled in to start working on his assignment.

His pad is open now, his pencil scratching the thick white sketch paper, his thumb charcoal-colored as he rubs along the lines, smoothing and smudging them. The large pink eraser rubs over lines as he forms his vision. He works on it for several hours; he’s gone through three pencil points and a quarter of a big eraser by the time he’s satisfied. He holds it out, examines it for a long moment, and then adds some fine touches. When it’s finished, it’s a loose cartoon-style sketch of himself in his boxer shorts, bent over his art desk, drawing a cartoon.

He worries all night that it’s not truly his alter ego, that it is really just him. But then again, maybe he is his own alter ego. 

 

“Okay, class, it’s time to turn in those alter egos.” Jensen walks to his desk and points to a wire basket. “Come on down and put them here before you leave, and I’ll see you next class.” 

He watches the art as it’s deposited in the basket, trying hard to glance at each piece as it’s laid down, looking for Camdon_fanboy’s style. He’s hoping that the piece he turns in will be the biggest clue as to which of his students Camdon_fanboy is. 

His viewing is interrupted when a perky red-haired student steps in front of him. “Mr. Ackles?” she says shyly, biting her lip. She meets his eyes coyly, unmistakably flirting.

“Yes?” Jensen asks, slightly disgruntled as he tries to look around her. 

“Danneel,” she says as she reaches out and touches his arm. 

Jensen looks at her hand on his forearm. She’s not the one he’s looking for, he knows. But she is his student. “What do you need — Danneel?” He smiles weakly at her.

“I think I might need some… umm — some, maybe…” She stammers and looks around as she twists her mouth into an awkward smile. “…some after-class instruction?” She squeezes his arm a little as she looks into his eyes hopefully. 

Jensen’s muscles tense under her fingers, and he wants to back away, but he just tries to act normally. He pulls up another smile, pats her hand, and removes it from his arm. “Well, it’s only the second day of class, and we’ve only had one assignment that I haven’t even looked at so far. It’s hard to determine if you’d need extra help at this point, so let’s just see how things go from here on out, why don’t we?” 

He knows what she wants — he’s dealt with fans like her before — but he’s not interested in the slightest. The last thing he wants is to outright reject her in front of the class, though, so he turns his attention back to the basket and hopes that she’ll just go away. Thankfully, she does. But everyone has already placed their homework in the basket by then, and all but two students have left the room. He’s missed his opportunity; sighing, he gathers up the submissions.

In his office, he starts to shuffle through the sketches. The first five are predictable, selfies in sketch form, not really alter egos. He quickly looks over the next nine; there are a few impressive ideas — a tree with glorious branches, a unicorn, a few elves, and one waitress in a greasy diner — but none is what he’s looking for.

Finally, he sees that familiar style. 

The other art falls away and he gets lost in the lines, the smudges, how defined the cheekbones are, and the haunting eyes staring back him. He recognizes them; they are the eyes of Camdon the Warrior on the face of a young man who looks innocent, the combination of an old soul in a youthful body. He’s in love with it; he wants to frame it and keep it, and adore it. 

He almost forgets to turn it over to see which student drew it. The name Jared Padalecki is scrawled across the bottom. Jensen can’t help but feel a smile cross his face as he remembers Jared from roll call. He’s imagined what Camdon_fanboy would be like in person before, but nothing as beautiful as what Jared is really like. It's more than he could have hoped; not only is Jared talented and nice to talk to online, he’s handsome too. 

Jensen takes the sketch home with him, and can’t stop staring at it. He wants to get on the laptop and tell Camdon_fanboy that he knows his true identity is Jared Padalecki. He wants to, but he doesn’t. 

He’s had a little crush on Camdon_fanboy for awhile now. Some days, he can’t wait to get online and see what his fan has to say or show off; he’s had to reel himself in so that he doesn’t fall for a fan who might only be a teenager. And now, now he knows, knows he’s an adult and that he doesn’t have to be cautious. But he needs time to figure out what to do about it. He doesn’t want to mess this up. 

 

Later that night, Jensen is lying in bed with his laptop perched on the pillow, looking at some new frames he’s drawn and touching them up with Photoshop. Jared’s art is lying beside him, and he can’t help but stop mid-touchup to stare at it again. His mind wanders from his own work as he takes his fingers from the tablet pad and dances them across the paper. 

The heavy black pencil smudges up the tips of his fingers with a charcoal-colored dust. He brings his fingers up and smells them, getting only the soft metallic smell of lead, but he knows Jared is in there too. He thinks about how Jared would have licked his fingers to smudge the pencil lines, how his sweat and oils would have pressed into the paper as he rubbed his palm over the textured fibers with purposeful intent.

His heart flutters at the thought of Jared’s tongue probing his mouth. Closing his eyes, Jensen moves his hand down, his long nimble fingers groping at his crotch. His cock hardens, and he can’t stop himself from shoving his hand down inside of his boxer-briefs and wrapping his fingers tight around it. Images of Jared flood his brain as his hand squeezes and strokes over his hard, thick dick. He wants to smell him for real, taste him, and run his fingers through that soft-looking moppy hair. 

The thought of Jared’s long lanky body pressed against his as they undulate together has Jensen’s hand jerking hard and rough over his throbbing cock, precum leaking out and smearing over his palm with each stroke. He wants to kiss him, to touch him, to be engulfed by him, and that thought pushes him over the edge. He grunts hard, his hand making quick short strokes as it squeezes hard over the head, and he comes on the name Camdon_fanboy, like he’s done so many other times, but without having that face to focus on.

Satiated, Jensen lies there, trying to catch his breath, thoughts of Jared still running through his head. He wants to let Jared know so badly that he’s Apocalypse1, but without announcing it, since he’s talked to more fans than just Jared online and he doesn’t want to give up his handle on the site if he can help it. But he doesn’t want to corner Jared in class either, in case he freaks him out.

He’s drifting off to sleep when the idea of the shirt pops into his sleep-addled brain.

Awake again, he gets up and goes over to the closet, sifting through all of his shirts until he lands on the well-worn red t-shirt. He pulls it out and smiles. He’d bought this original fanart t-shirt from Jared long before he’d known who he was, back when Camdon_fanboy had first set up his t-shirt shop. He smoothes his hand over the iron-on print of Camdon the Warrior and knows that if he wears this to class tomorrow, Jared will flip out in an inner cheer, and maybe even approach him about it.

He slips the shirt on and climbs back into bed. 

 

No one is online tonight; Jared’s been scanning the blogs and leaving comments, but none of his friends is around, so he goes over to his own shop to check for any orders. He’s been busy the last few days and hasn’t checked for any sales requests. He has a few commissions, so he answers the emails and then decides to start one of the sketches.

The time flies by as Jared draws, his hands moving effortlessly across the paper. Ink stains his fingertips as the pen traces over the thin pencil, inking in the last lines. It’s four in the morning when he realizes the time. Yawning, he runs his fingers through his hair and wipes his brow, a line of black ink streaking his brow like a liner pencil, and sets his drawing aside. 

He falls into bed, his clothes still on, wondering what Jensen Ackles thinks of his alter ego artwork. This class is a turning point for Jared and he loves it so far, though he’s nervous about his idol critiquing him — but then again, he can learn so much from him. 

He turns over, dreamily thinking about Jensen, about his voice, his face, those eyes and that mouth. How he walks across the stage floor of the class, his constant hand gestures while he makes a point about something he is passionate about, and those damned bowed legs and how sexy they look when Jensen sits on the desk and crosses his feet at the ankles. 

His cock is getting hard and his breathing heavier. Jared presses his face into the pillow and lets the fantasy play out, imagining Jensen asking him to stay after class and then seducing him, bending him over his big wooden desk and fucking him into the hardwood-grained surface. He’s jacking off, his body undulating into his hand as he whimpers and mewls with each stroke over his cock, until he comes hard, the white spurts painting his belly and running down over his fingers.

The bed swallows up his exhausted and satiated body, cradling him, so it isn’t long until sleep overtakes him. He has the most amazing dreams of Camdon the Warrior and the world of _Apocalypse Live_. He’s injected into it, fighting alongside his hero. It’s the best dream he’s had in ages.

 

The alarm goes off. Jared doesn’t want to get up yet; he slaps the snooze button but it’s too late, he can’t quite find that happy-adventurous place in dreamland again. He hits the snooze button several more times, not sleeping anymore, just struggling to rest, and before he knows it, he’s almost late for class. 

“Crap crap crap,” he pants, scrambling around to grab everything he needs. There’s no time for a shower or to eat anything. He brushes his teeth, throws on some clothes — possibly the same ones he wore yesterday, but he doesn’t really have time to check — and grabs his messenger bag, then rushes out the door.

When Jared gets to the auditorium he’s made it with just minutes to spare. He slides into his seat, pulls out his supplies, and tries to catch his breath. Jensen hasn’t arrived yet, he notices, and flushes a little, nervously running his hands through his hair. 

He’s yawning when the door behind the desk opens and Jensen walks into class. Jared sits up straight, his sleepy gaze focusing on his teacher, and as the blurry edges clear up, he notices that Jensen is wearing a red t-shirt with a screened print of Camdon the Warrior standing in a fighting stance on it, arm stretched out as he aims his gun at an enemy, one expressive cocked eyebrow painted over his left eye and his patented hard angry expression, complete with snarl, on his face. 

Jared recognizes it immediately as his first ever t-shirt design. 

He finds it hard to pay attention to the lecture that Jensen is giving the class, instead fidgeting with his pen as he keeps staring at the shirt. He knows he should be listening, but all he can think about is exactly where Jensen got that shirt. He’d only sold that particular design to one person before he’d retired it, and as far he knows, it was never replicated.

After class, Jared approaches Jensen as he’s packing away his teaching tools.

“Mr. Ackles,” he says quietly. It’s the first time he’s actually spoken to Jensen outside of class participation.

Jensen looks up and smiles. “Oh, Jared,” he says, as if he’s surprised to see him standing there. His smile is wide, making the corners of his eyes crinkle up with the spread of his mouth. “Can I help you with something?”

“I, uh…” Jared’s brain stops when he sees Jensen’s face up close for the first time, covered in those amazing freckles, with those soulful-sexy green eyes. He can’t stop staring into those eyes, eyes that seem draw you in and completely capture your attention when you’re in close proximity to them. 

“Jared?” Jensen repeats.

Jared starts. “Your shirt.” His voice is quiet and meek, filled with humble insecurity as his thumb nervously rubs the corner of his sketchbook while he pulls it closer to his chest like a security blanket. He can’t believe that he’s being so forward as to ask _the_ Jensen Ackles where he purchased his shirt. He swallows hard and exhales very audibly. He’s consciously trying to still his nerves when Jensen steps closer and his scent washes over him. It’s a woodsy-fresh-natural aroma; he’s not sure which is Jensen’s essence and which is the cologne’s scent, but it’s a heady mixture that seems to shiver all the way through him. 

“What about my shirt?” Jensen looks down at it and then back up at Jared. He absent-mindlessly brushes over his chest like he’s smoothing out some wrinkles.

“Where did you get it?” Jared blurts out, his mouth going dry from watching those finely-freckled, slim fingers rub over that well-defined chest. Jared didn’t realize that being this close to Mr. Ackles would make him crush on his teacher like a big ridiculous teenage girly-girl. 

“This old thing?” Jensen grins, the green of his eyes going a bit darker as he looks at Jared from beneath his brow. “Why — I bought it online from a fan.”

Jared’s knees go weak and he wants to grab hold of the desk, the wall, or failing that, Jensen — anything to keep from hitting the floor from sheer inner fanboy squeeing. “Ummm,” he stammers. “You see, I…” He swallows hard; Jensen’s eyes are burning holes into his own with their sexy laser vision. “…designed that shirt.”

“Really?” Jensen’s grin turns to a knowing smile. 

“Yeah, I…” All of the lights suddenly go in Jared’s fanboy-addled brain. He takes a deep breath, stares at Jensen for what feels like forever, and when all of the pieces fall into place he knows that he must have the most stunned expression on his face, because he feels like all of the blood has run out of him and is pooling at his feet in a red puddle.

“Are you okay, Jared?” Jensen reaches over the desk and steadies him. “You’re white as a ghost.”

“You — your — I sold that to — I mean — it’s you…” Jared can’t form a sentence to save his life at the moment.

“I’m…” Jensen prompts him.

“Apocalypse1,” Jared blurts out. His eyes are as big as saucers, his jaw slightly agape, his brow scrunched up into a worried furrow. He feels like he might fall over as his knees go completely weak. Like a wave crashing into his brain, he remembers with sheer embarrassment all of the conversations they’ve had on the blog. How he told A1 about his hero worship of Jensen’s talent, how he wished he knew what he actually looked like, how he thought he’d be so damn sexy just like Camdon, because Jensen probably used himself as the guidelines for the features, like many artists do. He just can’t believe he fucking told Jensen Ackles his fanboy secrets.

“Yes, I am, and you are Camdon_fanboy.” Jensen loosens his grip on Jared’s arm and smiles softly, his cheeks blushing a little with the realization that Jared is meeting his hero for the first time, in the flesh. “I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know how. So,” he gestures to the shirt, “I improvised.”

Jared takes a second to compose himself. “I never knew, I mean, you — I mean, A1 you — seemed so…”

“Normal?” Jensen laughs.

“For lack of a better word, yeah.”

“Well, I can’t go around having my fans know that their favorite comic’s creator is trolling his very own blog, now can I?” Jensen sits on the edge of the desk, crossing his ankles and making Jared’s world dip again for a moment. “That’s why this has to stay between us, Jared.” 

Jared looks up at Jensen, whose expression has gone very serious. “Of course, of course. Can’t have the crazies coming out of the woodwork,” he chuckles.

“Exactly. Our little secret.” Jensen pats Jared’s shoulder, his hand lingering a little longer than needed. Jared sucks in a breath, his whole body thrilling at the touch. “I have to tell you, Jared, I love your art style, I’ve been admiring it for years now. You draw such beautiful lines, and your ideas are thoughtful as you bring them to life.” Jared blushes, his head spinning as Jensen — Jensen Ackles! — pays him compliments. Jensen hesitates, then continues, “I just wish you weren’t mirroring them from my creation. I’d love to see you draw something all on your own, your own creation.” 

Jared’s heart stops and he holds his breath, his thumb worrying the corner of his art book again. “I…” He looks down at his book, bites his lip, and then gives Jensen a hopeful look. “I have some sketches right here.” He lays the book down on the desk beside Jensen and flips through it, stopping and letting him see the sketches he’s done of his own original character, one he’d love to see introduced into _Apocalypse Live_. “This is James, James Brawn, I think he’d make an amazing sidekick to Camdon.” 

Jensen looks it over. He traces the ink lines with his fingers like he’s sculpting them from the paper. Jared slides his own finger across the paper and points out several things that he thinks are flaws and wants to fix. He’s aware he’s babbling, but he’s not entirely sure what he’s saying. His head is still spinning from everything.

“It’s perfect,” Jensen interrupts, his eyes glued to the pages Jared’s pulled out for him. He’s watching Jared’s ink-stained fingertips as they redraw each line in James’s face. He looks up, his gaze settling on Jared’s face, following that smiling curve, the almond slant of his eyes, his cheekbones and jawline. “It’s you, isn’t it?” He taps James’s drawn face and smirks. 

Jared stops talking, his body going still, and he lifts his finger from the page. “I… I guess it is. I mean, there are things about Camdon that resemble you. He has freckles, green eyes, and—” he blushes, “the same broad shoulders.”

“So how do you see James and Camdon working together?” Jensen smiles softly as he waits for the answer.

“Well, Camdon finds James in a warehouse almost dead; he’s the first human he’s seen in months. He doesn’t have any mutations that are visible to the naked eye so he takes him back to the compound, where Illa nurses him back to health. When he’s well, his powers show up — he has great strength for his size and can overpower any object, living or inanimate.” 

Jensen folds his arms and smiles at Jared. “But what relationship do they have?” 

Jared swallows hard. “Hero and sidekick…” His voice is sort of wavering. 

“I get that, but, are they close? Are they buddies, are they partners?” 

Jared plays with the edge of the paper as he fumbles to explain it. “Umm, well yeah they are close — they are buddies of sorts…” He doesn’t want to say that they are lovers, at least not yet.

But Jensen keeps pushing. “So they are friends as well as co-workers?” He gives Jared a smirk, and Jared realizes in a rush that Jensen has figured it out. But he obviously wants Jared to say it. 

“Lovers, they are lovers,” Jared blurts out. “I mean, Camdon’s never had a girlfriend — or a boyfriend for that matter, or even a fling — so he could be anything we want him to be. I mean, uh, his orientation hasn’t been explored so… I thought maybe he could be…” Jared tries to explain his decision to make Camdon gay.

Jensen folds his arms and looks down at the pictures, pretending to study them again. “That’s true. I never gave him a partner because he’s always been a loner, but maybe he’s found the one with James. Maybe James could be what he’s been looking for, for years.” 

“Right!” Jared grins, excited about the possibilities. Jensen’s listening, actually listening, isn’t shutting him down or putting him off. But then, Jensen’s heard his ideas before, hasn’t he? He opens his sketchbook again, rifling through it as he says, “Camdon’s just never met anyone he connected with until this kid, this boy, changes his whole world and invades it, breaking down his barriers and showing him he can be loved.” Jared pulls a sketch free, one of Camdon and James kissing. 

Jensen smiles as he takes the picture out of Jared’s hands and looks at it. “He really looks like he’s enjoying that kiss.” Jensen gives Jared a sideways glance, the corners of his mouth curling up.

“He loves Camdon, owes him his life, and worships him as a soulmate would.” Jared’s leg is bouncing with nervous energy.

“I meant Camdon,” Jensen laughs. “But James looks equally pleased. Why don’t you bring your James and Camdon artwork to my office tomorrow and we’ll discuss them further?”

Jared can’t believe his ears. “Sure, awesome, I will.” He thinks for a second. “By office you mean…”

“Here, Jared. In my office, right here.” Jensen pats Jared’s shoulder again, sending sparks through him, and helps him to put his artwork away.

 

Jensen is beyond excited to be helping Jared; he can hardly wait to have their after-class meetings, which have become a regular feature after every lecture, sometimes going for hours after. He’s prepared some art that meshes with Jared’s creations, even sent out some feelers to the publisher about working some of it into future issues of _Apocalypse Live_. He’s intrigued with the idea of finally giving Camdon a romantic interest, and a sexual identity, with a male lover. Almost as intrigued as he is by the artist who created the love interest.

Today, Jared’s art is spread out on the desk; he’s working diligently on a scene where James is lying on top of Camdon, their shirts off and their legs entwined as they kiss and frot against each other. Jensen leans over his shoulder, watching Jared’s fingers move over the paper, creating this gorgeous piece of erotica. 

Jensen is continually mesmerized by the way Jared captures the character of James, by the way he brings him to life, and especially the sexuality he gives him. It makes him wonder how much of it is really Jared’s own sexual experience, and that, that idea right there, keeps Jensen on edge the whole time they are together.

“Beautiful, Jared.” He leans in next to Jared’s ear as he whispers the words. His breath ghosts over Jared’s ear and neck, and he shivers as if it’s traveling up his spine. At that, Jensen’s cock hardens, and he wants nothing more than to kiss the side of Jared’s long-sexy neck. But despite all the one-on-one time they’ve had over the last couple weeks and sexual tension so thick you could cut it, they haven’t taken that step yet. He takes another deep breath.

“Thank you.” Jared twists around to grin up at him as he meets Jensen’s gaze. 

His fingers are grey with the heavy pencil lead dust. Jensen reaches down and touches them. “You always have dirty fingers,” he chuckles. He caresses the pads of Jared’s long fingers and inhales softly; the thought of those fingers on his body makes his belly flutter and his thighs quiver.

“Ha ha, yeah, I know.” Jared laughs. “A hazard of drawing old-school.” He wiggles his fingers against Jensen’s touch and bites his lower lip.

“I like it,” Jensen says softly. 

“At least someone does,” Jared jokes. 

Jensen pushes a little farther and entwines his fingers with Jared’s. Jared smiles wider, hazel eyes sparking, and Jensen’s heart is beating a mile a minute as he leans in closer and brushes his cheek against Jared’s scruffy one. Just do it, he orders himself. “I’d like to kiss you.” He closes his eyes like he’s making a wish out loud, as he says it. 

“You would?” Jared’s voice is quiet, questioning. He tightens his grip on Jensen’s hand and leans in closer. “Really? I mean, I thought maybe… but I didn’t want to just _assume_ —”

“Have for a while.” Jensen’s mouth is on Jared’s jawline now. He’s taking in his scent, his breath hitching in his chest as he exhales against Jared’s perfect skin. 

Jared shivers. “Not that I have any problem with this, but — isn’t there some rule against teacher student fraternization?” He turns his head slightly, letting Jensen ghost his lips over his cheek. He’s breathing faster, not quite panting, but definitely heavier.

“I’m not a teacher,” Jensen points out, nuzzling into Jared. “I’m a guest speaker.” His thumb caresses Jared’s palm. “I’m not an employee of the school, so no, no rules against this.” He puts his other hand on Jared’s neck and strokes over the pulse point beating under his skin. He can tell that Jared’s excited by the way his pulse is beating rapidly, against his thumb.

“Oh, that… that’s good.” Jared’s voice is quaking like a schoolboy’s as he presses into Jensen’s touch. Jensen tilts Jared’s head and pulls him back, positioning his head so that he can kiss him. He studies Jared’s mouth, how eager he looks to be devoured, and how absolutely delicious his lips looks to him. 

“I think I’ve wanted this even before I met you.” Jensen leans in and places his mouth over Jared’s slightly parted lips. They’re soft and pliable but strong as he feels Jared kiss him back. Jared goes limp in Jensen’s arms, sighing with pleasure; his mouth the only thing keeping them connected.

“Mmmhmm,” Jared moans as their lips part. He licks his lips, his eyes dreamy and drunken-looking. “I miss you already,” he whispers and searches for Jensen’s mouth, which is still hovering over his. 

Jensen runs his thumb over the line of Jared’s chin and tucks it behind his ear, his palm cupping Jared’s throat. “I never thought, never dreamed that it would be this good.” He leans down and kisses Jared’s willing mouth again. This time he slips his tongue over Jared’s lower lip and then inside of his mouth, where he is met with Jared’s eager enthusiasm. They kiss like that for awhile, open-mouth and sloppy, until Jensen spins Jared’s chair so that he has a better angle. Without breaking the kiss, he straddles Jared’s thighs and starts to sit on them. 

Panting, Jared pulls away.

“I — I — I’m no sure that I am ready for this right now.” He’s blinking, his eyes dewy and his words soft and kiss-drunken. He has his hands on Jensen’s hips, holding him tight, not letting him move away or drop down on him but keeping him there, hovering.

“I understand.” Jensen touches Jared’s cheek. “I can’t expect more than a kiss, we haven’t even gone on a date yet.” He smiles down at Jared as he examines his doe-eyed expression. He’s a little disappointed, true, but he means it. Jared is worth taking it slow.

Jared blinks twice, like he’s trying to figure out what Jensen just said, and then grins when the light bulb apparently goes on. “Are you asking me out on a date? Like, right now?”

“If you’re willing — I mean drinks or coffee, maybe some food?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Jared replies, his face lit up like a thousand-watt bulb now. “I’m pretty hungry, and food sounds amazing.”

Jensen eases out of Jared’s grip, after another soft touch of his face. “I’ve been eating at this diner, the food is good and the service isn’t too bad. Plus,” he looks at his watch, “it’s after ten and it’s a twenty-four-hour restaurant.”

“Sounds good.” Jared is already packing up his art supplies. “I could go for a big burger and some French fries.” He looks at Jensen and smiles so wide that his dimples take over his face, or at least that’s all that Jensen sees. 

Jensen takes a deep breath, trying to calm his rushing blood, and smiles back. “Let’s go then.”

 

Jared takes a huge bite of his burger; it’s probably the best thing he’s ever tasted, but then again, he hasn’t eaten for the past seven hours, since he and Jensen were working on his art scenes. He still can’t believe it, that he was kissed by Jensen freaking Ackles. His heart flutters and his dick twitches with the memory.

“You look like you are enjoying that,” Jensen remarks as he picks at his Cobb salad.

“Oh-my-God, it is soooo good,” Jared smiles, the feeling of steak sauce dripping down the side of his mouth. Jensen leans over and wipes it away. His napkin lingers a few seconds too long as he looks soulfully into Jared’s hazel eyes. Jared swallows hastily and grabs a handful of his fries.

“So, I was thinking.” Jensen pushes a tomato around his plate. “Maybe we could finish that sex scene tonight?” He looks over at Jared, watching him stuff three fries into his mouth at once.

Jared takes a long pull on his milkshake before answering. “Sure, I don’t have anything else to do, and I really want to finish this with you. You have great insight into where I wanted to take Camdon and James.” He smiles and bites the inside of his lip. He also doesn’t want to miss out on another kiss. 

“Well, Camdon is my creation,” Jensen laughs.

The conversation about Camdon and James carries on for the rest of the meal. What they want to do next, where to take the relationship, and it all feels like they are actually talking about themselves and not about fantasy characters in a comic book. 

 

“I think we should have the boys find a small house to squat in, you know, sorta domesticate them, even during the apocalypse,” Jared grins.

“Yeah… right,” Jensen smirks. “Together is one thing, but shacking up during the apocalyptic war, not so much.”

The waitress comes over and interrupts. “Dessert, gentleman?”

“What do you have?” Jared asks and then looks over at Jensen, who still has salad on his plate.

“Apple pie or chocolate coconut cake.” She points to the refrigerated case behind the counter, which Jared can see contains several slices of sweet decadence. 

“Mmmm, cake,” Jared says, licking his lips and wiggling his eyebrows at Jensen. 

Jensen smirks at him, then says to the waitress, “And I’ll have the pie, no ice cream and no whipped topping, please.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back with those.” The waitress shuffles off to get the desserts.

“Wow, it’s the pie/cake debate right here,” Jared laughs. Jensen gives him a confused look and cocks his eyebrow. “Oh come on…” Jared says with disbelief. “The great Roosterteeth.com cake or pie debate?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Jensen says, shaking his head.

“Man, you live under a rock,” Jared snickers, and pulls one of the comics up on his smartphone. “See, this guy loves pie and he loves cake, there’s an ongoing joke about the pie vs. cake debate.” 

Jensen starts to laugh at one of the cartoons. “I never new this existed.” He flips through the panels, smiling, before holding Jared’s phone out to him. “Thanks. I guess I’ve been only doing my own thing for so long that I forgot there’s a whole world out there to explore.” 

The waitress appears then, placing a heavenly-looking slice of cake in front of Jared and a boring, though still tasty-looking, piece of pie in front of Jensen. “Enjoy!” she chirps before swanning off again.

“No problem, we’ll check more of these out later.” Jared takes his phone and prepares to devour the cake. As always when eating cake, and especially chocolate cake, he makes all sorts of noises signaling just how much he’s enjoying it. It’s almost lascivious, the way he’s being vocal about it, but he can’t help it. It’s _that_ good.

“You like that cake, huh?” Jensen asks and then clears his throat.

“Oh, God, yes. It’s fantastic,” Jared gushes. He notices a blush on Jensen’s cheeks as he picks at his pie. Jared likes how it makes his freckles stand out even more. His own cheeks hot, he asks, “How’s the pie?” 

“Good, good, but I think I should have gotten the cake from the sounds you’re making,” Jensen smirks. “What’s it called again, chocolate orgasm cake?”

“No, chocolate coco—” Jared realizes Jensen is teasing him. “Smartass,” he says instead, and then eats the last bite of his delicious chocolate cake.

Jensen pushes his pie away. “So, we should get to work on those final scenes. I have some ideas, and maybe I could finally show you how to use Photoshop to ink instead of your old-school method.”

“Cool, I’d like that. So, back to the school?” Jared’s hoping that they go to Jensen’s instead.

“Umm, no, not at this hour. Maybe your place?” Jensen looks hopeful, like he really wants to see where Jared lives.

“I, uh, well…” Jared stammers. He doesn’t want Jensen to know how much of a starving artist that he really is. “Maybe — maybe we could go to your place, you know, to show me that Photoshop stuff.”

“Jared, I’m basically living in a hotel room with a kitchenette right now. The table isn’t even big enough for me, and there’s exactly one chair. You have a desk and a sofa, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Jared thinks fast. “I don’t have Photoshop.” He’s lying; he has it, an old version at least, and even uses it sometimes, mainly for touchup. He just loves drawing so much more than graphic art. But if it’ll get him out of having to show Jensen Ackles the mess that is his studio—

“Not a problem, I have Photoshop on my laptop.” Jensen points to the car, just visible outside the diner's front windows. “Never leave home without it.” He’s smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

“Fine,” Jared says exasperatedly. “It’s just — it’s nothing fancy, I kind of live in a shoebox studio right now,” he warns. “Just, you know, while I get started.”

“Of course, we all start somewhere. I lived in my grandmother’s attic while I got my start.” Jensen hands over a few bills to their waitress, then leans over and pats Jared’s shoulder. “It’s all a process. Now, ready to go?”

 

They pull up in front of Jared’s building and Jensen gives it a quick once-over. Plain, old worn brick, dirty around the edges, but not too bad. “So this is the place,” he says, remembering his first apartment and how it was above a dingy liquor store in the red light district. 

“For now,” Jared says, getting out of the car. 

Jared opens the double doors with his key and waits until Jensen enters before he goes in behind him. “Not so bad,” Jensen remarks, glancing around. _Hallway doesn’t smell like pee or booze, a good start,_ he thinks. 

“Up here,” Jared says, bounding up the stairwell to the third floor. He opens the door to the apartment and takes a deep breath. “Here we are, home sweet home.” He throws the keys on the table just inside of the door and gestures Jensen inside.

“You weren’t kidding when you said shoebox,” Jensen says, looking around. He walks into the living room, just four steps inside of the door and through the kitchen — and he uses that term loosely. He looks over in the corner and sees a drafting desk, a computer desk, and tons of art supplies strewn across the work station. There are pieces of art pinned to the wall and lying on the drafting desk, along with a big all-in-one printer stashed under a pile of papers.

“Yeah, well…” Jared goes over to the drafting desk and clears it off, then spills the supplies and art from his bag onto it. “Grab the computer chair and let’s get going.”

Jensen pulls up the chair and slides in next to Jared, who has pulled out a clean piece of paper and is already sketching. Jensen watches as Jared forms the shape and features of Camdon, on his knees, arms bent and hands holding something not yet there. The image starts to appear, James standing tall, hands threaded through Camdon’s short spikes of hair as he holds Camdon’s head to his crotch. Jensen smiles; Camdon has his mouth sealed around James’s hard dick. 

“Pretty big cock there, don’t you think it’s a bit unrealistic?” Jensen jokes.

“Not really.” Jared turns and smirks at him. “Personal experience.” He winks, then goes back to drawing.

“Yeah…” Jensen clears his throat and swallows hard. He wants to ask: yours, or…? But he doesn’t; he just keeps watching as Jared’s ink-stained fingers gracefully master the page with the image.

Once the picture is complete, it’s a flawless image of Camdon giving James a blowjob. Jensen is floored at how skillfully and perfectly Jared’s hands created something so arousing.

“Done,” Jared says, pushing the paper off to the side and pulling a new one to the center. “Should I take that farther? I mean, I’ve drawn them full-on screwing…” He reaches into a box under his desk and pulls out yet another sketchbook, this one full of pages of the characters in various sexual positions, each more arousing than the last. 

“My god, Jared, you really…” Jensen clears his throat as he flips through the pages. “I mean, jeez, I don’t — I’ve never—” he stammers.

“Thought of Camdon fucking anyone before?”

“Well, I was going to say, saw such prolific pornography before.” Jensen stares down at the images, more than a bit turned on.

“Anime,” Jared proclaims, grinning. “I love anime, and manga too.”

“Oh, like… monsters having sex with little Japanese girls?” Jensen can’t make the connection.

“No, more pretty graphic sexual positions and guy-on-guy action and stuff. Anime and manga are a teenage gay boy’s best friends,” Jared laughs. “Got me through some rough years. Well, that and _Apocalypse Live_ , that is.”

“Funny, when I was a teenage boy, we had our hands and well, our imaginations,” Jensen smiles. 

“Oh, I had my hand and my imagination, it was just centered around my boy-crush Camdon doing things to me that, well, no fifteen-year-old should have done to them.” Jared smiles slyly and gives Jensen another wink.

“Ahh.” Now Jensen can’t get the image of Jared beating off to his artfully-drawn pictures of a shirtless Camdon. His dick is paying too much attention and he’s having trouble focusing. “Well, I… um… am glad that you found my art so _enjoyable_.” He puts the book on his lap to try to hide his growing erection.

“Quite enjoyable.” Jared waggles his eyebrows. “But I think I like your company even better.” He blushes a little.

Jensen takes a deep breath, coming to a swift decision. “You know, Jared, I’ve been thinking. Over this last week, with everything that we’ve accomplished and that you’ve brought to the table with this whole Camdon-James relationship… Well, I’d love for you to come work with me. Officially.” He puts his hand on Jared’s knee.

“I—” Jared takes an audible breath. “Is this for real? I — I mean, you’re not just asking this because you think I’ll sleep with you, and then in a few weeks when class is over, you and the offer will disappear?” 

“Of course not.” Jensen shakes his head and squeezes Jared’s leg. “Jared, I’ve loved your art since before I met you.” He pulls his chair up close until his knees are touching Jared’s. “I’ve talked to you online and bought several pieces of your art, and not because you’re attractive, because you’re crazy talented and fucking amazing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am so attracted to you that I have a boner right now—” he pulls the book away to reveal the bulge, “—but, when I ask you to work with me, I am thinking with this head,” he points to his own head, “and not this one.” He points to his crotch. “I want you to bring all the great things like…” he holds up the sketchbook, “this, to the future of _Apocalypse Live_.”

“I don’t — I mean, I will — I mean, _yes_!” Jared leans forward and throws his arms around Jensen. “This has been my dream, my boyhood dream,” he gushes as tears come to his eyes. 

“Great, wonderful.” Jensen holds Jared even tighter. “Now, just one thing, we need to get your skills with Photoshop in order. We use it for all of the major coloring and inking for the comic, and so forth.”

“Not a problem, I’m proficient,” Jared says, running his hand over Jensen’s chest as they part.

“But you said you don’t use it?” Jensen’s puzzled.

“No, I said I love to draw old-school. You just assumed I didn’t use it.”

“But, I thought you didn’t have it?”

“Yeah, about that…” Jared laughs, flushing a little. “All just to get close to you and, well, maybe get more kissing.” He winks flirtatiously.

Jensen stares a minute, then snorts and pulls Jared close again. “Sneaky.” 

“Well, a boy’s gotta do…” Jared kisses Jensen on the mouth. This time he takes control, shoving Jensen back into the chair as he hovers over him. His hand goes down to find the lever to the chair, causing the back to recline suddenly. 

“Shit,” Jensen gasps through the kiss as he feels the chair fall backwards. A moment later, his empty lap is filled with Jared, and Jensen clutches at him, pulling him in even closer.

“Oh, god, I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve crushed on the idea of you, your art, your essays and blog musings, everything about you.” Jared’s hands roam all over Jensen’s chest, lifting the hem of his shirt and finding the hot, hard belly underneath. “Wondering what you were really like, wishing I could meet you, wanting you, and getting off to the idea of you.” 

“Yeah?” Jensen pulls Jared’s shirt away from his body, replacing it with his hands as they dip down under the waistband of Jared’s jeans and boxer-briefs. 

“Yeah,” Jared breathes back, peppering Jensen’s neck with nips and kisses. “If I’d known I was spilling secrets to you all this time, I would have died a happy fanboy death.” 

“Oh god, you feel so good, it’s been ages since anyone has touched me like this,” Jensen groans, his fingers stroking the cleft of Jared’s ass. “I was desperate to know you, Jared. I wanted to know this boy, this man, who could make me feel things with his art.” Jensen pushes up into Jared’s body. “Is this — are you ready now?”

“Of course I’m ready,” Jared says into the hot flesh of Jensen’s chest. “I started it, didn’t I?” He pulls back, his eyes meeting Jensen’s. He drags in a breath and touches Jensen’s cheek. “God, you are so beautiful. When I saw you for the first time, I got hard, got hard for you, for your genius, and for how fucking hot you were.” Jared laughs. “My friends said you were probably old like Stan Lee, but I knew anyone who could give such life to a character like Camdon, well, he had to be full of life himself.” He rucks Jensen’s shirt up and lowers himself down to lick and suck on Jensen’s hard nipples, slipping the nubs between his lips then nipping them.

“ _Oh_ …” Jensen hisses and arches into the feel of Jared’s mouth on him. “When I found out it was your art, that you were Camdon_fanboy, the one I’d been talking to, I couldn’t wait to meet you, to talk to you for real.” Jensen’s breathless; Jared’s mouth is sucking all over his chest and belly now, marking him up with red bites. He threads his fingers through Jared’s hair, the same hair that was the first thing he’d noticed about him, and thinks about how good it is, how soft. “But Jared, you are so much better than I ever could have imagined. And trust me, I imagined a lot.”

“Stop talking now.” Jared straddles Jensen’s lap and gets on his knees fully, the chair creaking but holding up underneath them. He opens his jeans and pulls out his hard cock. “I’m James and you’re Camdon,” he declares, stroking his long hard dick. 

Jensen’s eyes get wide at the size and length of it. He licks his lips at the small bead of precum on the tip. _Personal experience_ : his question is answered, and now he has personal knowledge as well. Jensen takes it in his hand and gives it a long gentle caress, squeezing the head a little and causing the precum to drip off and onto his thumb. He smears it around, over the slit, and then down to the underside in a smooth spiral. 

Jared is going crazy. “Jesus, you know how to use that hand.” He clutches Jensen’s neck, tugging his head forward as if begging him to just put his mouth on it. “Show me how much you’ve wanted me,” he commands, tone low and seductive.

“More than you can ever know.” Jensen leans in and licks over the head, swirls his tongue inside of the slit and laps out the new beads of precum before they can fully form. “You taste so good,” he hums against the soft spongy head, his lips mouthing over the tip. Jared bucks and gasps, his body shaking, thighs tensing as he gulps in air. 

“I want to come right now,” he moans, his hands fisting the spikes of hair on Jensen’s head. He rotates his hips and pulls back. “But not yet, I want to enjoy this, not come early like a virgin. Which I am not.” He grins.

Jensen moves a hand back and squeezes Jared’s tight ass. “With the art you draw, you’re most definitely not a virgin.” He pulls off of Jared’s cock and looks up into Jared’s eyes, his own cock hard and aching. 

Jared squats down onto Jensen’s lap again, swiveling his hips and rubbing over the very apparent hard line in Jensen’s jeans. He unbuttons them and pulls out Jensen’s hard cock. “Mmm, nice,” Jared says, his eyes lighting up at the impressive girth. He strokes over it, feeling it jerk with his touches. 

Jensen moans and arches his back. “Mmmm, yeah, like that,” he says, his whole body trembling, reacting to the way Jared is jerking him off.

“You like that, do you?” Jared purrs, coy. “Let’s see how you like this.” He lines their cocks up and wraps both hands tight around them. “Gonna get us both off together,” he smiles as his hands start to move up and down.

Jensen grunts, arches his hips, and cries out. “Fuck, yeah,” he moans, his hands instinctively cupping Jared’s asscheeks, helping to lift him as Jared bobs up and down while stroking them.

“Ohh yeah.” Jared flexes his ass muscles in Jensen’s palms. “Squeeze my ass,” he demands as he strokes with faster, more rough movements.

“God, Jared.” Jensen feels like he’s going out of his mind. He stares at Jared’s face, the pleased impish smirk he’s making, those dimples. Add in the feeling of Jared’s hands and dick grinding on him, and he doesn’t understand why he hasn’t come yet from sheer pleasure overload. But he doesn’t want this to ever end either, he thinks dizzily as he thrusts his hips forward, moving one hand up to close around Jared’s as his other continues to hold fast to Jared’s ass. 

“That’s it, yeah baby.” Jared throws his head back. His thumb slips over the heads of the cocks, smearing precum from one slit to the other. He starts to jackhammer his hips into their shared grip, his cock frotting against Jensen’s, veins rubbing together, heads bumping and sliding over each other. 

“Oh fuck,” Jensen moans out loud. His heart is beating like a rabbit’s; he can barely catch his breath as Jared changes the game and sends shockwaves through him. His balls are tight, his thighs like stone as he tries so hard not to come yet, but he can’t hold back.

“Gonna come,” he manage in a guttural slur just as his cock explodes with thick white spurts into Jared’s hand and onto both of their bellies. 

Jared never stops stroking, using the come as lube as he slithers over Jensen’s dick while it spasms uncontrollably. “Yeah, that’s it,” he encourages, leaning forward and claiming Jensen’s mouth, plundering it with his tongue as he strokes them, the wet mess slipping between them. He jerks his hips into the now-looser grip and bites Jensen’s lower lip as he comes like a fountain onto his belly. “So, fucking good,” he whispers, the sound almost unintelligible as he buries his face into Jensen’s neck, his hand still working over Jensen’s softening dick and his own spent one.

 

A few minutes later they’re still heaving, but satiated. Jared’s fallen on top of Jensen, his head on Jensen’s shoulder, his hand still holding their dicks together. Jensen kisses the top of his head, then snakes his hand down between them to untangle Jared’s hands. They’re wet and sticky, covered in a cummy mess from both of them.

“Your fingers are so beautiful,” Jensen says as he studies the glistening mess overlaying the dark black ink stains on Jared’s fingertips. “So talented and amazing.” He runs a finger over the tip of Jared’s index finger, the mess slick as it strings across his own fingers. “I want to devour you.” He slips his tongue over the web and up the side of Jared’s index finger, snaking it around the pad, caressing the tip before diving down into the web on the other side. 

Jared starts to shake. “Oh my god.” His voice quakes as pleasure shoots through him.

“Shhh,” Jensen says, his mouth ghosting over Jared’s middle finger before sucking it into his mouth, cleaning it off and humming while he does. “Mmmmm.” He closes his eyes and takes in the musky scent as he tastes the two of them, melded together. His tongue twists around the digit, sliding over it, as he enjoys the desperate sounds that Jared is making.

“Yes, oh god, yes, please.” Jared writhes, his cock struggling to get hard again as it oozes out several small bursts of un-ejaculated come. His whole body trembles as Jensen moves down to his last finger, then sucks his jizz-covered thumb into his mouth. “Holy fuck,” Jared cries out, arching. Jensen hums, watching Jared squirm as his cock aches to be hard again, his balls begging for more release that isn’t there yet. 

“Mmmhmm,” Jensen sighs once he’s finished and has wrecked Jared completely. He leans in and claims Jared’s mouth with his own cum- and spit-covered lips. Jared is compliant and limp; he kisses back tenderly, letting Jensen completely control his mouth.

“Yes,” Jared whispers as he puts all of his weight on Jensen’s body and nestles in. They’re still on the chair, the seat tilted all the way back, and by the grace of god, it still hasn’t tipped over. 

Jensen strokes Jared’s hair. “After class is over, you’re coming to California with me, right?” he asks, then kisses the crown of Jared’s head.

“I can’t work from here?” Jared asks sleepily.

“Well, yes… But don’t you want to come with me, work with me… live with me?” For the first time since they’d started this, Jensen feels nervous.

”I hadn’t thought about it,” Jared sighs.

“I guess — I guess it’s doable either way. You can stay here, work remotely, if you’d prefer.” Jensen’s voice sounds defeated.

“Oh no, I — I’d love to go with you.” Jared tilts his head and looks up into Jensen’s face, smiling broadly. “In fact, I’d love to do lots more things with you,” he continues, winking one eye flirtatiously. 

Jensen smiles back, the tension in his chest releasing. “Oh, Jared, I don’t think that will be an issue at all.” 

They both laugh.

 

After the class ends, Jared packs up his tiny life and moves to California with Jensen to officially begin work as an illustrator for _Apocalypse Live_. He stays in a cheap motel at first, but it doesn’t take long before they move in together, sharing their lives as well as work, and before they know it, an entire year has passed. It’s been a year packed full: lots of artwork, lots of laughs, lots of love, and much anticipation to the release of _Apocalypse Live_ ’s first real sex scene between Camdon and James, which happens in this month’s issue of the comic.

Jensen is so nervous. He’s been pacing the floor for what feels like forever, waiting to hear the response of the new dynamic. Sure, it’s been six months since they introduced the character of James and flirted with the romance starting between him and Camdon, but this is the proof, the truth, the actual sex scene that Jared drew and the storyline they put together for it. 

Jared comes out of the office and Jensen looks at him expectantly. “Well…?” Jensen asks, his heart in his throat.

“It’s mixed reviews,” Jared says with an even expression.

“Oh. Oh great.” Jensen slumps down in the recliner behind him, ready to second-guess his decision that this was a good idea. His publishers had warned him this might happen, even as they gave their approval. “What are they saying?”

“Well…” Jared sighs heavily. “Some of them want to know why it took you so long to make Camdon gay. And the others are saying how awesome it is that you finally made him and James fuck. Like I said, mixed.” Jared starts to laugh.

“What!?” Jensen jumps up again with a stunned look on his face.

“They love it, babe!” Jared grins and kisses him. “They think it’s brilliant.”

“ _You_ are brilliant,” Jensen declares, and kisses Jared back.

A few minutes later, Jared hands Jensen a beer from the mini-fridge in the art room. “To many more years of AL!” He clinks his bottle against Jensen’s.

“To many more years of _us_ ,” Jensen corrects, and pulls Jared in to kiss him more passionately than before.

**The End**


End file.
